Discussing Dinner
by Moonlite Streak
Summary: "If it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night..." It was all a game, that's all it was...but a heartbeat doesn't lie. And they could only fool themselves for so long - after all, they were both geniuses. Irene/Sherlock drabble series.


_Author's Note: Set after -_A Scandal In Belgravia-_ but before _-The Reichenbach Fall-

* * *

A knock on the door was all the notice she gave. From his seated position on the armchair of 221B Baker Street, Sherlock smirked.

And so the game began.

* * *

Of course John wasn't there, she'd timed it as such; another one of her power plays. Like the elegant creature she was, she swept gracefully into the room and came to a stop behind Sherlock's armchair, resting one hand on the headrest.

Evidently she had expected to find him as he was, legs curled up with his hands under his chin – and she wasn't disappointed.

He could practically feel her mirth burning a hole through his back.

"Mr. Holmes," She said by way of greeting. He cracked open one blue eye.

"Irene."

Nothing further was exchanged – the two were intelligent enough to deduce the meaning of the inflections in the other's voice.

* * *

They sat across from each other in 221B, discussing various matters over tea. Of course they didn't _talk_ – such an activity was for the mundane. The ordinary. These two individuals were anything but.

Irene crossed one pale leg over the other, exposing more of the silky skin of her thigh as she did so, and sipped from her cup daintily, loftily. Sherlock left his own where it was, instead opting to watch The Woman in hope of deducing something new from the enigma.

His gaze was intent upon her face, unblinking. After a minute or so, Irene gave in to her curiosity and placed the cup back onto the table with a small _chink_.

"What is it Sherlock?" She sighed, knowing full well that he would sit there for hours otherwise.

The man across from her remained silent.

She broke eye contact and pushed herself off the couch. Sherlock's eyes tracked her movement, but apart from that he may have well been a statue.

"Well, good day Mr. Holmes. Thanks for the dinn-"

Her usual parting line was cut short as a pale arm shot out and grasped her wrist. Irene gasped and looked up, surprised, at the detective.

Sherlock was silent, studying Irene's arm intently. His thumb smoothed over the soft inner skin of her wrist, and Irene supressed a shudder at the contact.

He flipped her hand over in his own, and Irene drew closer almost unconsciously, enchanted by the serious gaze that had focused on her face.

Sherlock continued trailing the tips of his fingers gently up her arm, and Irene once again marvelled at the emotions the man before her could elicit from her cold heart.

"Irene," He murmured, the beginnings of a slight crease forming between his eyebrows.

His fingers continued to dance along her skin, but he never once looked away from her face.

Sherlock suddenly smiled, just a twitch of the mouth. He curled his cool hands around Irene's smaller one, and carefully pressed his fingertips to the inside of her wrist.

"Your pulse is elevated," He murmured, the words more of a rumble in his throat than an outspoken sentence.

Of course her pulse was elevated, thought Irene wryly; it was Sherlock who was in front of her after all.

She looked down at where their hands were joined, and so did Sherlock. His hands were curled protectively over Irene's own slender digits; her remaining hand fell forgotten at her side.

Then, very deliberately, Sherlock twisted their hands so that their positions were reversed.

Irene looked up suddenly, at the same time as he.

* * *

She felt a heartbeat pulse beneath her fingers. Then another.

* * *

The man's eyes suddenly appeared naked before her, emotions shimmering elusively in the pale blue depths.

His heartbeat…was _elevated_.

Silence reigned for what seemed like an eternity, the time marked only with the passing of heartbeats. Eventually Irene felt a shadow of a smirk grace her features. She tilted her head towards his own, her playful eyes lighting up the darkness that had fallen during their conversation.

"Mr. Holmes, if it was the end of the world, if this was the _very last night_," Irene licked her lips subtly.

"What would you do?"

Sherlock swiftly regained his usual composure, but an answering smirk threatened the corners of his mouth.

"Why, Miss Adler? Would you care for dinner?"

* * *

_Author's Note: Beautiful pairing, there needs to be more of it on here! _

_May continue this into a series of __oneshots__, but rating will remain as it is now, and the story will follow canon. So no AU's, sorry guys!_

_Any suggestions? Just PM me and I'll respond as soon as I can :D_

_Please review! And constructive criticism is always appreciated!_

_Reviewing = love! Reviewing = inspiration! Reviewing = updating!_

_Lots of Love, -Moonlite Streak-_


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